Make It Alright
by the corrupted quiet one
Summary: Dean was just out for a drive, and suddenly a stupid Aerosmith brought on strange emotions for a certain angel. It wouldn't have been so bad if that angel didn't show up. Destiel awkward fluff. Set in Season 5.


**A/N: Welp, I guess I'm exploring my bi-fandom curiosity. So here's some fluffy Destiel. Nothing like making the second fic for a new fandom be lots of awkward fluff right? Enjoy!**

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><p>Dean had his eyes fixed on the asphalt, leaning back in the seat of the Impala as he cruised down the long road. A blanket of blackness covered the sky, another starless night rolling around with only a sliver of white to pass for a moon. Nights like these were rare, ones when the Winchesters had no cases to work, when Sam was catching up on the sleep lost from hours of research, and when Dean could just take a peaceful ride with his baby.<p>

Peaceful. That was a funny word for a hunter to use.

The Impala was the only car on the road, at least it seemed that way. Occasionally another vehicle would drive by in a rush, apparently having somewhere to be at one in the morning, but Dean simply drove at a steady speed, enjoying the radio and the time he had to actually sort out his jumbled mess of thoughts.

And, according to the dictionary of Dean Winchester, sort out meant temporarily ignore completely.

There were a lot of things-bad things-he thought about too often. Hell, the end of the world, demons always biting at his ass, Sam seeming to go his separate way... It all piled on him, collecting negativity, pressuring him. He was never the type to talk about it, as Sam suggested multiple times, so he kept shoving it away. And now that nothing was going on, rather than letting the wall dam break and drowning in a typhoon of his own unhappiness, he forgot everything. He tuned out, mind wandering off to other things, things he wished he thought about more.

With the windows shut, the interior of the Impala was its own world. The fresh air was the musty mixture of gun powder, burgers, and hints of air fresheners Sam would sneak in ranging from tropical coconut to wintergreen. The comforting shelter was the stiff ebony seats, an imprint in the seat fitting Dean's form perfectly. The guardian was the little green army man always attentive stuck in the ashtray, Sam's toy forever standing at a vigil. The soundtrack of nature was Aerosmith's Permanent Vacation album, the smooth rock more soothing than any ocean wave or cricket chirp.

As the tracks changed, Dean always nodded to the tune, knowing many of the songs by heart. He hummed along, the action second nature, scarcely noticing the transition from one song to the next. One minute, he was halfway through "Heart's Done Time", the next "St. John" was just starting, and, before he knew it, "Angel" came on.

_Angel_...

Dean's humming stopped, involuntarily easing on the gas pedal as the ballad began. He snapped out of his trance of mindless driving, blinking, forgetting everything a moment. How long was he in the car? How did he suddenly get to track nine? How did his mind suddenly jump from nothing to _Castiel?_

He let the music play, paying close attention to every note as though he never heard the song once in his life, and it was the best song ever to exist. He veered in his lane, though he paid little mind, too mesmerised by the music to care. It was just a song, one he'd heard a thousand million times at least, and yet it was so unique and breath-taking all of a sudden. It made all the tranquillity elevate to a level he hadn't reached in a long time, one he never expected to reach again after his time in Hell.

It was just..._nice_.

Strangely... Beautifully... _Nice_.

"_I'm aloooooooooone_," Steven Tyler's vocals leaked from the speakers, echoing inside Dean's head, "_Yeah, I don't know if I can faaaaace the niiiiiight..."_

His heart panged, an invisible hand squeezing it, chest tightening.

"_I'm in tears, and the cryin' that I do is for yoooooooooooooou..."_

Thoughts of the angel he knew so well—the one in the dirty trench coat with the bright blue eyes—flooded his mind.

"_I want your love; let's break the walls between us..."_

Those vivid, stunning blue eyes. They sparkled like stars. They glowed. They twinkled. They were magnificent. They were brilliant. They were perfect. They were all Dean could think about.

"_Don't make it tough; I'll put away all my pride..."_

Castiel cared a lot about him. He did a lot for him. He _rebelled_ for him. He went _against_ _Heaven_ for him. And Dean barely did anything in return, he just couldn't compare.

"_Enough's enough, I've suffered and I've seen the liiiiiiiiiiiiight..."_

He gripped Dean tight and saved him from perdition. He brought him out from Hell and back to life. That alone surpassed everything he could ever do.

"_Baaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aby, you're my aaaaaaaaaaangeeeeeeeeel, come and save me toniiiiiiiight..._"

Dean blinked, returning to the real world for a moment. Right, this wasn't some lordly choir; this was an old Aerosmith CD. Right, he was alone; no angels in sight. Right, he was driving; and the car was driving in the middle of the two lane road. Right. Right.

His eyes flickered to the windshield, noticing how the Impala had drifted halfway into the other lane.

"Shit," He quickly turned the wheel, steering the car back on path. The Impala's wheels hissed, her screech disrupting the smooth flow of the chorus.

Dean shook his head, groaning, pressing hard on the gas pedal to accelerate. He recovered slowly from his cloudy daze. His memories all blurred together, leaving him with a bunch of smudges stringing together in an incoherent mesh.

He retraced his steps.

He got in the car.

He put on the CD player.

He left the motel.

He drove on the road.

Then this song came on.

And then he thought of Castiel.

That was when everything got fuzzy, when Castiel popped into mind. Maybe it was just because the song was about angels. It was logical that Castiel, the angel that helped Dean and his brother so often, would come to mind, right?

"_Come and make it alriiiiiiiiiiiiight..."_

But this is a _love_ _song_.

That was what confused Dean; he was thinking about Castiel during a _damn love son_g.

And he kind of liked it.

He liked those eyes, the things Castiel did for him, his lacking people skills, his knack for always being there.

He always came when Dean called for him, he was always there for him, and he could trust his life with him.

He was Dean's guardian angel. And, judging by how many angels acted like complete dicks, there weren't many that did that. If anything it was only Castiel who did that. Only for him, only for Dean.

"_Don't know what I'm gonna dooooooo... About this feeeeeeeling insiiiiiide..."_

That was a good question. What was he going to do about this feeling?

There...there was a feeling.

A funny feeling. One that made his heart warm, one that made his tension melt, one that calmed him, one that sparked a smile on his face. And it was all when he thought of him.

His angel.

"_Yes it's true; loneliness took me for a ..."_

Dean knew loneliness well. Hell, now he felt more alone than ever. All he had in the past was family, and now his father was dead and his brother he just didn't know about anymore.

But with Castiel...

"_Without your love, I'm nothing but a beeeeggaaaaar..."_

Always there. Always watching. Always caring.

"_Without your love, a dog without a bone..."_

Before Castiel he managed, but now that he had him, the thought of life without an angel keeping an eye on him sounded so horrible.

Unimaginable.

He'd call and have no one come. He'd be totally alone when Sam had an episode and wouldn't speak to him. He'd break down without that little light to assure him that there was someone somewhere above him who would pull whatever strings he could to keep him safe.

"_What can I do? I'm sleeping in this beeeeed aloooooooone..." _

No, that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen. He'd do what he could to keep Castiel safe as a half-ass returning of all the favours the angel did for him.

"_Baaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaby..."_

"_You're my aaaaaangeeeeeel..." _Dean sang along, voice rivalling the lead singer's, lyrics leaving his lips without a second thought. He nodded his head along with the beat, "_Come and save me tooooniiiiiiiight..."_

A grin curved on his lips, delighted by the snippets of Castiel flashing before his eyes. Just the sight of that dark chocolate, that pale milky skin, those celestial cerulean eyes...

"_You're me aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaangeeeeel_..._Come and make it all riiiiiiiiiiiight_..."

Staring deeply into those eyes. Running his fingers through that hair. Touching that skin. Being closer than close. That was all right. _All right._

"_Come and save me tooooniiiiiight..."_ He lowly whispered the last line of the chorus, closing his eyes as the guitar solo played, each strum of the string another piece of kindling thrown to the fire.

He felt this way before, just for short bursts of time, usually with a woman in mind.

But this felt much purer.

Much longer.

Much better.

"Hello, Dean."

"JESUS CHRIST!" Dean slammed the brakes, sharply turning off the road. The car bumped rolling off the pavement, the Impala's wheels rolling on a patch of dirt before coming to a total halt. The engine rattled, car stalling as Dean caught his breath.

He wasn't expecting Castiel to randomly pop in for a visit.

Castiel sat comfortably in the passenger's seat, staring through the windshield, looking off to the difference with his mind somewhere else. He came the moment Dean started his little sing along, hearing it and thinking it a call for him.

In a sense, it was.

Dean turned his head, olive eyes wide, staring at the angel in shock. The song played on, preventing a plague of awkward silence.

"Dammit, Cass," Dean shouted, slapping the dashboard and reclining in his seat, "You almost gave me a freakin' heart attack!"

"You called for me," The angel said plainly. His gaze shifted to Dean, blue eyes glowing in the darkness. He looked straight into Dean's eyes, always staring, always a gleam of caring.

Eyes were windows to the soul, and Dean had one of the best. As an angel, Castiel could see more than the naked human eye, able to pick up thoughts, emotions, and other little mortal things, most of which he didn't fully understand.

He detected that, somewhere, Dean was calling for him, just not directly. And he was right. It was all in those dull olive eyes, written all over his soul. He wanted Castiel there, he wanted him now. He didn't exactly pray, but it was close enough to fool Castiel.

Castiel at least told himself Dean fooled him.

That sounded better than Castiel coming because he wanted to.

Angels didn't take time out of their schedules to drop in on humans.

Plus there were already rumours floating around the garrison.

Castiel tilted his head, raising his eyebrows as he waited for Dean to reply.

"I didn't..." Dean grumbled, brows scrunching together. He never took his hands off the wheel and prayed for Castiel to appear sitting shotgun. All he did was sing a few lines of a goddamn Aerosmith song.

_Oh fuck..._

"That was a song, Cass."

"_Baby, Baby, Baby, you're my aaaaaaaaangel!"_

Castiel's eyes fluttered, registering the strange singing coming from the speakers. His stare fixed on the CD player, absorbing the song as the final chorus brought it to a close, lips parted. Confusion crossed his face, then with another blink, a gleam of embarrassed realisation shimmered in his eyes.

"...Oh..."

"Oh? That's all you have to say?"

"My mistake."

"You don't make mistakes, Cass," Dean snorted, sounding like a grumpy little kid.

"You overestimate me, Dean," Castiel paused, eyes still on the player as the music faded. His mouth remained open, words teetering on the tip of his tongue, but nothing coming out.

The next track started, electric guitar chords blaring at maximum volume. Castiel shuddered, the screeching strings catching him as off guard as he caught Dean when he appeared. Dean just cursed, reaching out and pressing the power button. A blanket of silence fell over the car, everything still as the two men sat alone.

Castiel, for once, refrained from eye contact, oddly fixated on the music player. He felt the olive stare burning him, demanding answers he couldn't give. If he had them, perhaps he would. Truth was he didn't know how to define what he felt. Angels weren't supposed to feel the way mortals did. Yet the more Castiel hung around with Dean, the more _human_ he felt.

That puzzled him, that perplexed him, that bewildered him to an unfathomable degree.

That just didn't _work_.

So he thought.

Dean proved him wrong before, maybe this was just another time.

"Cass..."

The angel finally turned his head, smouldering blue eyes meeting Dean's gaze once again. The words were still caught in his throat, Castiel's mouth hanging open, looking into the other's pupils in hopes of finding an answer deep in the blackness.

He didn't get much of an answer, not a definitive one at least, not something blunt or simple like he wanted. No, all he got was a pristine image of the man in the driver's seat. He watched Dean grow—Mary wasn't lying when she told her son that angels were watching over him—and still he seemed to be doing that. He did so much, not all of it good, but that didn't stop him from being a righteous man. He was worthy of being the vessel of the most powerful archangel.

No, he was better than that. Michael would be lucky to have Dean as a vessel. Dean was better than the angels (he agreed that most of them were "dicks").

Dean with his strength, his muscles, his excellent build. His burnt honey hair, his deep olive eyes, his light brush of stumble. His need to do good, his devotion to helping people, his tireless drive to kill the evil "sons of bitches" walking the earth. His vices, his virtues, his pure humanity.

Maybe this was why God loved humans so much.

Castiel didn't exactly love humans though.

Just Dean.

He cared for Sam and Bobby, but Dean was always different.

They always had a more profound bond.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Why are you really here," Dean asked, serious, "No bullshit."

After a long pause Castiel answered honestly, "I don't know."

"I don't know? Seriously?" The uncertainty greatly unamused him, "Cass—"

"_I don't know_, Dean," The angel repeated, tone assertive and sure.

Dean pressed his lips together into a hard line and looked at Castiel, expecting an explanation. He watched Castiel's tongue twitch inside his mouth, the angel mentally stumbling to pick out the correct words.

It was no secret that Castiel was challenged in the art of communication.

Every sentence he planned soon trailed off, turning into incomplete thoughts, unable to think with Dean staring at him, expecting a solid answer. And what did Castiel have? A bunch of "Well..."s and "It's complicated"s.

Insufficient responses to describe questionable sensations possibly relatable to human emotions which he scarcely comprehended.

Nothing worth saying.

But Dean wanted to hear something.

No, not wanted, more _demanded_ to hear something.

The stone-faced mask he wore and attentive, sombre gleam to his green irises commanded Castiel to answer his question.

Sooner rather than later.

"_Cass_." Dean grew impatient.

"I told you Dean..." Castiel hesitated, "I don't know... I am being honest when I say that, for I truly _don't_."

"I thought angels were supposed to know everything," Dean spat. He knew that wasn't true, but he was too stubborn and convinced that there was a better answer the angel was keeping from him.

"We do not know everything," Castiel said firmly. If they did know everything, then he wouldn't be running into these issues. These _human_ issues.

"You know what? Never mind. If you're not going to tell me, just leave."

Again, Castiel hesitated.

He could tell Dean how his very presence stirred up strange mortal emotions. He could tell Dean that he was acting like a child making all these upset comments. He could even say what some of the other angels have been whispering.

But what to say, what to say was the troubling decision.

Dean noted the discomfort growing in Castiel's eyes, his lips trembling, features lit with a wavering doubt that instantly filled him with guilt.

_I'm an asshole..._ He thought bluntly. Castiel really didn't have to come. Dean wasn't complaining that he did. He just wanted to know why. But in his state of surprise, he managed to pressure Castiel to a point of discomfort.

That wasn't what he wanted, not at all.

Not when he was just thinking about him in other ways.

Thinking about them, not arguing, but being close. Touching him. Touching his face. Touching his hair. Touching his body.

No, more than touching.

Pulling at the locks of brown. Kissing the rough lips. Caressing the scrawnier frame. Feeling his breath. Hearing his heartbeat. Smelling his skin. Staring into those _eyes_.

The rate the images flashes before him was alarming to say the least, the feelings attached with them all scarily sensual and horrifically genuine, the situations all so compromising and sexual, it all screaming how wrongly right yet rightly wrong it was.

Did that even make any sense?

_I_ _shouldn't be thinking like that... Not about Cass..._

It was weird thinking about Castiel like that. Weird but still good. Still oh so good.

"...I suppose you have a point..."

Dean's ears perked, Castiel's low, grating voice jogging him out of his sexuality-questioning fantasies. Castiel looked about ready to go, meaning that within a blink Dean would hear his wings flap and have the angel vanish.

"Wait!" Dean blurted out. He didn't realise how desperate and distressed he sounded until Castiel shot him a quizzical look, curious as to what sudden dire crisis Dean remembered.

"What is it, Dean?"

And so the tables turned.

Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. A lot wanted to, put all of them were too brash and overly blunt.

_'Oh, nothing Cass, I just thought you should know I kinda wanna fuck you. No big deal. Just coming out of the closet I was apparently in.'_

That would end well.

"Don't go," That sounded stupid, but he couldn't shove words back into his mouth. He sounded whiny and selfish.

So what if he was every other day if the week, he didn't want to sound like that in front of Castiel after all the displays of cockiness and dumbassetry.

Castiel didn't move, taking in those words.

_Don't go._

When that gruff voice said it, he felt more important than any other angel. He felt needed, needed in a way angels never needed others. Dean wanted him to stay. God did want Castiel to follow Dean's orders.

This counted.

"All you had to do was say so," Castiel said quietly, a slight smile teasing at the corners of his lips. He'd been on Earth for over a year and he still wasn't used to some of the littlest things, the slightest shows of emotion, the tiniest facial expressions that would hint off the bittiest things.

A wave of relief washed over Dean, letting out a soft sigh. Good, Castiel wasn't leaving. Now what?

"So..." Dean really didn't think that through too much. Usually he'd have some cocky comment to start up a conversation, or very least get a reaction from Castiel (usually confusion), but he had nothing. He kept drawing up blanks. He always had something to say, what was this crap?

Castiel said nothing, in a similar position to Dean. However, he wasn't the talkative type, so rather than trying to come up with a way to break the reformed ice, he was busy deciphering the emotions swirling around inside.

They were all so curious, so queer, so interesting.

And all about Dean.

Human feelings were tricky things, and from Castiel's time with the Winchesters, he learned that Dean didn't exactly share them. So why should he? But what was he supposed to do with them, then?

If this was a normal mortal occurrence, it was no wonder that humans were flawed.

"You are..." Castiel looked into Dean's eyes, squinting to read the fine print of his soul. Even if he couldn't comprehend them, he still knew one emotion from another. And in Dean, there were a few bouncing around, "...confused?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.

Confused barely covered it.

"There's a lotta shit on my mind," Dean muttered, half-lying, half-telling the truth.

"Because of the apocalypse?" He went for the obvious answer. He sensed that Dean was keeping something from him, something different. Whatever it was, it seemed new and just as troubling as the other worries and burdens Dean already carried. Somehow, Castiel felt he was the cause.

"...Yeah..."

There was another long pause. Dean hoped he covered his tracks, hoped that Castiel wouldn't catch on, but he had a bad feeling. Castiel, meanwhile, knew for certain there was something else bothering Dean. It wasn't that easy to dupe an angel, fallen or not.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"You are lying."

"Am not."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not, Cass."

"You are."

"Cass, I'm _not_."

"If you were not lying then you would not be so persistent in convincing me."

"Yeah, well maybe if you weren't so damn stubborn I wouldn't have to convince you."

"I believe you are the stubborn one here, Dean."

Dean was more than stubborn. He was a grouchy, headstrong child. He knew it, too. Worse yet, _Castiel _knew.

He could either deny it even more, stalling and getting him nowhere, or he could possibly say something to the effect that Castiel was right but at the same time not tell him anything.

The latter option seemed more productive.

"Yeah, so?"

He at least admitted it. To an extent.

"You're not being very direct about this..." Castiel mumbled. All they were doing was bickering. Bickering like an old married couple. It was getting them nowhere.

Absolutely nowhere.

"Direct about what?" Dean asked bitterly, "All you've been doing is sitting there staring at me!"

"You could at least tell me what is bothering you."

"Right now? You."

"You asked me to stay."

"I never asked you to come, but you came anyway."

Castiel stiffened.

_Got him._

"You have a point," was all he said.

"Quid pro quo, Clarice," Dean smirked.

The angel didn't understand the Silence of the Lambs reference, but he did understand the Latin. A favour for a favour, an answer for an answer. If he wanted anything out of Dean, he'd have to admit why he was there.

His muscles tensed, stomach churning. This sensation... He never felt it before. It was kind of _scary_. This combination brought on both sickness and pleasure. Those two weren't supposed to go hand in hand, were they?

And this over answering a question he thought he avoided? He should've just held his tongue and let Dean keep acting like a headstrong child.

"You wish to know why I came, correct?" He asked slowly.

"You never answered that."

"I still don't know."

"Want me to tell you something first?" Dean dared, a cloud of nervousness looming over him.

With women he never had this problem. It was just a plain and simple 'I like you' type of thing and then BANG, she was in his bed. But with Castiel that just wasn't happening. No, he was one of those dorks twiddling his thumbs and stumbling over his thoughts. He felt stupid, at mercy, pathetic even. He was used to being in charge, being confident, being the guy that could shoot down all the monsters and always get the girl. Not sitting in the car next to a warrior of God, questioning his orientation and worrying about _feelings_.

Dean wasn't a feelings type of guy and he did not want to start now.

He was a man of _action_.

"That might be helpful..." Castiel nodded once, face pensive.

Dean took a deep breath, feeling his pride shrink and retreat down his throat. He was so nervous it _disgusted _him. This shouldn't be nearly as hard as he was making it. He just couldn't have a night of peace anymore, could he?

"Look, this is gonna sound weird but..." Great, he started talking; now he'd have to finish, "I like you."

"I like you too, Dean. I find your company enjoyable." Castiel said, not grasping the point.

"Not like that," Dean shook his head, "It's more...shit..." He discarded the movie references that immediately came to mind, knowing that Castiel wouldn't get 'like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing' or anything of the like.

"More in the sense of..." Castiel interrupted, trying to figure it out himself, "...brothers?"

"NO!" Part of him wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel. Explaining romance to angels was as easy as teaching rocks Chinese. "Not like that."

"Then..." Castiel fought to understand, urged on by the weird emotions. They screamed at him something but he really didn't know what. Or maybe he did. Uncertainty fogged his senses and reasoning, building a wall between him and the answers.

"Like I _like_ you," How many times would he have to say that? He hated saying it.

"As in..."

Castiel could've been on the verge of figuring the truth out himself. The next words to come out of his mouth could've been the right answer. Or it could've been the wrong one. He never replied, instead finding Dean's lips pressed roughly against his own.

So sudden. So unexpected. So _awkward_.

Castiel, needless to say, had no clue what to do. He saw humans act affectionate and kiss on a regular basis, it being another mortal tendency. But it was never something he did or thought he'd do. But he was doing it. He was kissing Dean. And with that touch, the sickness dissolved, leaving a content, pleasant feeling inside.

He liked it. The feeling. The kiss. And Dean. He liked it.

Dean liked it too. It was different, that was for sure. He was used to soft, adept lips pressing back in lecherous delight, not chapped, clumsy ones quivering against his in utter shock. But it got his point across, and it made him relaxed. Over the course of their squabbling, he tensed up, and now that the pressure was gone, he could calm down again. Why, he felt calmer than he had in a _long _time.

Then, Dean pulled back, breaking things off before the tranquillity could be spoiled by awkwardness. Part of him didn't know what just happened, everything going so fast, so on impulse. His brain slowly registered the tingling on his lips, vibrating slightly courtesy of the angel. The moments blurred, the memory so fresh fooling him into thinking that the cool, quavering lips were still on his, the sensation taking its time fading.

Castiel stared at Dean, absorbing the kiss, taking in every detail of it even though it was over. The satisfied feeling, the relaxation of his muscles, then quickened heart rate, all of it exciting and brand new, a whole new door opened. It astonished him, it baffled him, it touched him.

He felt...loved. Loved in a way he never experienced. He loved being loved.

Dean watched Castiel carefully, concerned by his lack of reaction. He just kissed him and all the angel did was stare dumbfounded and speechless. The least Castiel could do was let Dean know how much he screwed up their relationship.

"Cass?" He said, anxious.

"Your mouth..." Castiel's voice sounded dreamy, distant even, but overall pleased, "It tastes like...hamburgers."

Dean cracked a grin, laughing.

_All that and he says the most random thing..._

He found it cute. Actually sort of really cute.

Castiel, still confused, smiled. He made Dean laugh, that had to be good.

"You know you say the weirdest shit sometimes," Dean chuckled.

"You do the strangest things," Castiel countered playfully.

"But you liked it." Dean teased.

"I did..." His grin widened when he admitted that, "And you did as well?"

"Yeah," Castiel's approach to the whole thing was adorable. He sounded like a little boy on Christmas who just got the only toy he wanted, eyes sparkling brighter than before. Dean loved it. Maybe he still had a lot to make up for; a lot to do for Castiel to equal things out, but here was a good place to start. He could do more over time; make some of those fantasies he lifted from skin flicks a reality one day, but not tonight. Tonight he just had an angel sitting shotgun and a peaceful night.

Dean glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

Quarter to three.

"Fuck..." That would be fun explaining to Sam, especially when most of the nights he was out late typically meant steamy nights with strangers. Sam would just have a field day hearing about this one.

Castiel looked at the time, "I'm sorry I kept you."

"Don't worry about it," Dean waved his hand, gesturing for Castiel to think nothing of it, "You just do your angel thing and Sam and I'll see you...in the morning or something." Again, explaining to Sam, fun stuff in store.

The angel nodded, putting on a serious face again.

In the blink of an eye, Castiel was gone, Dean just catching the sound of flapping wings before silence fell over the car again. He needed a moment, reflecting on what happened. The whole thing was surreal looking back, like a Quentin Tarantino movie or pipe dream, but it happened.

_First groped by an angel, now kissed by one..._

Dean took another deep breath, starting up the car and turning back on the road. He didn't touch the CD player, instead humming the tune to "Angel" as he headed back to the motel, occasionally mumbling the chorus.

_"You're my angel, come and make it alriiiiiiiiiiiiiiight..."_

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><p><strong>AN: ...Yay! Wasn't that fun? Still getting used to writing these guys, but I'm kind of addicted. Also, Angel by Aerosmith is totally a great Destiel song and as addicting as these two cuties! (On another note, I know I spelt Cas "Cass", the writers of the show spell it Cass so I add the extra "s" when I write it in fics is that weird?) **

**Thank you very much for reading! Leave a review, that'd be nice. I'm working on a lot of different things all at once and I've been pretty stressed out, so I just kind of wrote this, haha. Nothing relieves stress like awkward angels and hunters. I'm still getting the hang of them, but they're really loads of fun. C: ~CQO**


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